


Blinding

by sarensen



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:26:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6898426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarensen/pseuds/sarensen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-movie. There‘s just no coming back from some things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blinding

It's late one night in Autumn. Charles is a bit drunk and finds the world particularly depressing from this angle. 

He half twists, one wrist across his forehead, and stares at the ceiling as if it’s not all he‘s been doing every day for the past month since he was released. 

His mind lazily circles around a thought: _bone is heavy._

Eventually he drags himself, inch by agonising inch, back onto the traitorous wheelchair; sits regarding his useless legs. Odd angles and frailty. 

His mind whispers: _Dead bone is heavier._

He closes his eyes briefly; when he opens them, Hank's small hacksaw is teeth-deep into the flesh of his left thigh. He looks at the hand holding the saw and then at the tear in his pyjama pants, the patch of blood darkening the cotton. He feels detached, as if these things are not his.

A momentous decision weighs on his mind; endlessly empty and keening. Charles hovers precariously over the edge.

With a small sigh, he puts the saw on his desk and goes to bed.

\---

Erik says, “You don‘t feel anything?”  
Charles does not meet his eyes.

Erik removes his hand from Charles’ lap, slowly, and doesn’t know what to say. Guilt hangs like a spiderweb between them. 

He rises up. Charles doesn’t kiss back.

Erik thinks he must be dreaming. Charles knows they are.

\---

The next time they meet is on the battlefield. 

They tread (or wheel) across the shattered husks of their irreconcilable differences; Charles despairs that Erik’s eyes are like winter. Erik carefully doesn’t think anything at all.

_Look what you did_ , Charles accuses with his eyes, _Look at what you’ve become._

It’s too quiet. There’s ash in the sky, drifting down; ash in his throat, on their faces. Charles’ whole perception is filled with death, with this exhibition of his friend’s resolve. 

“You won’t reconsider?” he manages eventually when the silence has stretched too long; when he starts imagining he can hear the thoughts of the dead, or perhaps just the sound of his heart breaking again.

Erik contemplates, then says only, “We could have been wonderful, you know.”

Charles imagines a row of metal staples holding his heart together. He thinks, ‘ _Oh, my friend. We could have._ ’ 

Erik is wearing the helmet and doesn’t hear him.

\---

Erik plays chess with Mystique. They briefly discuss the atrophy of Charles Xavier, and Erik finds he doesn’t wholly mind being in the company of people who don’t make him feel intellectually inferior. Once, he even finds a smile somewhere, tries it on and doesn’t hate how it feels.

Then Mystique says, “Checkmate.”

For a moment, Erik thinks he could kill her. But he doesn’t, and excuses himself, and escapes to sleep.

\---

Erik says, “I could have loved you.” He strokes Charles’ face, a caress like kisses.

Their existence here is mingled, less than separate, emotions irreparably coalesced like coffee and cream.

Two heartbeats seem loud in the silence. Charles turns to glance at lapis eyes, less like winter in the dream; always gentle like the sea. 

“I think I did love you.” The staples hold. 

Like everything they were, it’s over too soon. 

All Erik’s rage is singularly bent on the nothingness where Charles‘ heartbeat was, and exhausted. It only hurts a little this time.

\---

Charles is all smiles and quiet confidence. He is charismatic, he is charming. He doesn’t just make people think they’re worth something; he genuinely believes that they are. Charles is the most likable man in the world.

Erik is dangerous. He knows cruelty, he knows fear and he does not know tolerance. He is all fierce determination and does no thing unless it furthers his purpose. But he believes in a cause, a very good cause, and he believes in it so much that after a while, he _becomes_ the cause. Erik is the most respectable man in the world.

\---

This is the price of Erik’s freedom: When they meet again, they’re not friends and they’re not enemies and they’re not anything.

Charles says if this is freedom, freedom must be like death.

\---

Charles can’t hate Erik.

In the last dream he ever allows them, Charles lets Erik take him, and he can’t feel anything and honestly, neither does Erik.

As he fades, Erik says, “I’m sorry.”

And Charles says, “It’s too late for that.”

There‘s just no coming back from some things.

**Author's Note:**

> In the process of moving all my works over to AO3.  
> This was originally posted on Livejournal here: http://sarensen.livejournal.com/1863.html


End file.
